


Five Things That Never Happened To Kaleb Simmonds (And By Association, Kalan Porter)

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Canadian Idol RPF, Canadian Music RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Black Male Character, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Wordcount: 100-2.000, five things, written in 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye





	Five Things That Never Happened To Kaleb Simmonds (And By Association, Kalan Porter)

_As it happens, the Fate, Atropos, she who weaves the things that are to be, accidentally dropped a stitch. Knit one? Purl two? What the hell does it matter, anyway? It's just human lives, right?  
\--Bruce Sterling, "Dori Bangs"_

**I. (group 2)**  
_Maybe next year,_ is all Kaleb has thought week after week since the show started. Rejected at audition, how humiliating was that? His only hope is that when the Best of the Worst show hits, he'll be spared on-camera ridicule.

It's Group 2's turn to perform, and as he sits at home, glumly watching everyone sing and hearing the judges heap the praise on them he wishes he could receive, all he can think now is, _That could've been me._

Eventually it's Kalan Porter's turn, the kid with the mess of blond curls, the one his sister calls Buffalo Boy. "You think it'd hurt the kid to do something written after he was born?" she asks no one in particular as the music for his song begins.

"Hmm." Kaleb's barely listening to her while he watches Kalan sing. The stage's soft blue-white spotlight seems to illuminate him from within, making smooth highlights on his golden curls, porcelain skin, and impossibly pink lips. The soulfulness in Kalan's stormy orbs that appear to be looking right you, into you, is only matched by the soulfulness in his voice.

Kalan's only- 18, right? How he sounds so much older, so wiser, putting a lifetime's worth of heartbreak and love into his song.

_That kid's really something,_ Kaleb thinks with a faint smile. For the first time since the show started, he doesn't feel jealousy or remorse or sadness- only the feel of being lovingly gazed at by those deep blue eyes.

"He's just a Clay Aiken wanna-be," Jeanna scoffs and stuffs popcorn in her mouth as the judges gush over Kalan. "He's not like you at all."

"No, he's not," Kaleb solemnly agrees.

But not in the way she thinks.

**II. (wildcard)**  
Kaleb gives his collar one last straightening-out, keeping his eyes on the sight of Kalan behind him in the mirror's relfection. "I don't know how you can be so calm," Kalan's voice wavers.

"You need to take a few lessons from me, then," the older man says, turning to face his friend.

"But this is _Wilcard!_" Kalan reaches to grab Kaleb's shoulders. "For you and Jason, Kyla, Liz, Bernard, Ted, Andrew, and Raj- this is your last chance! And meanwhile there's sixteen others who'd kill to be in your place..." He trails off, having lost his breath so quickly, and readies to drop his hands, but Kaleb holds nto them with a gentle grip and brings them back to shoulder level.

"You think I'd just leave you an' Elena up there by yourselves? I had to come back. Group Two's gotta stick together," he finishes quietly and squeezes Kalan's hands.

"Too bad we just couldn't bring the rest of Group Two back," the young blond muses after a moment of silence, then brings his friend's hands to his cheeks. So warm...

"Hm." So much fragility in Kalan's voice. "Things are gonna be fine, kiddo," he traces a finger along his friend's cheek, "trust me."

Kalan's expression is unchanging, like he hasn't a hope left.

Kaleb had been specific about what song he wanted for Wildcard. Something in the teen's fragile expression brings it to mind at that moment, and he begins to hum.

"I love that song," Kalan says with a tiny smile when he realizes what it is.

"You got good taste, kiddo," Kaleb responds with a smile of his own.

The young man sighs. _I love you so much, Kaleb. Please make it through,_ he wants to say, but doesn't. All he says is, "Could you...do you think you could sing a little now? For me?"

Still keeping his smile, Kaleb leans in and gently brushes his lips near his friend's. "Of course," he whispers. He tightens his embrace, pats the back of Kalan's head in a comforting gesture, and softly begins singing.

_"Lean on me, when you're not strong,  
I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on..."_

**III. (British Invasion week)**  
He stands next to Manoah, hearing nothing but the pounding of his heart as Ben reads the card.

"The second member of our Top 10 to be eliminated...is Kaleb Simmonds."

Even through the various cries and boos of digust from the crowd, even as Manoah wraps her arms around him, even through Ben's farewell speech, Kaleb's only care is not to fall apart, and it's not easy. As the others leave the couches to gather around him, he can only make eye contact with Kalan, and what a heartbreaking sight it is, beautiful blue eyes swimming with tears.

So much is spoken in those eyes. _Kaleb, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. Don't go. I love you._

_It's all right, kiddo,_ is the only thing Kaleb's expression can say back. How he wants to say more. How he wants to sweep Kalan in an embrace right then and there, to kiss away his tears and murmur apologies and endearments and promises.

How he wants to, but can't.

Ben hands the microphone to him. "Kaleb, one last time for Canada?"

He nods. There's nothing else he can do, which hits home as the music begins.

_*Would you know my name  
if I saw you in Heaven*_

Despite the hardship, his voice is clear and strong as ever. Someone has to remain strong, because Kalan just can't, and he knows it.

_*Would it be the same  
if I saw you in Heaven*_

During the given hugs, he feels two painfully thin arms encircle his shoulders, a soft mass of curls rest near his cheek, and teardrops drip onto his skin. Kaleb brings his free hand to gently rub the young arms, to discreetly squeeze Kalan's hand. To the audience, it's a farewell gesture between friends.

_*I must be strong and carry on  
'Cause I know I don't belong here in Heaven*_

How he wishes he could, though.

**IV. (high-school!AU)**  
It doesn't make any sense. High school crushes are supposed to be on the pretty girl in homeroom who keeps her long hair in a velvet ribbon, idly crosses her ankles back and forth, and nibbles on her pencil when she's in deep thought.

They're not supposed to be on the younger fella with messy hair and haunted eyes who meekly makes his way down the hall, viola case in one hand and books clutched to his chest with the other. Not the one who gets shoved and pushed and picked on by almost every senior around.

Kaleb silently observes from where he stands at his locker, keeping a discreet but protective gaze on the kid whose name he doesn't even know. He only knows that with the boy's pale glow and shining orbs, he looks like something too good for the soulless cage that calls itself high school.

It shouldn't make any sense, but the best things in life often don't, now do they?

Kaleb makes a mental note to find out the kid's name. It's a start.

**V. (superstar!AU)**  
No matter how big the venue, it's not unusual for Kaleb to be seen hanging around for an hour or so after shows, gladly signing autographs or posing for photos with any waiting fans. It's one of many things that set him apart from most run-of-the-mill R&amp;B stars.

Tonight is no different. Edmonton is no different from any other city. The two young girls coming up to him, identical cherubs with flaxen tresses, blue eyes, and shining skin, clutching his CDs and squealing with delight the way young girls do, are no different from most of his other fans.

Trailing behind them is a fella about his age, identical in looks with only a slope to his chin to indicate any masculinity. Big brother playing chaperone. That's not different either. The young man just stands there, watching with an intent look as Kaleb signs the girls' CDs, an act alone enough to fly them to the moon from the looks on their faces.

The younger girl- Mackenzie, her name is- blushes and giggles with her hand over her mouth, and says something about a picture.

"Sure thing, doll," Kaleb says with his trademark Chesire grin and puts his arms around the girls' shoudlers. Guardian doubling as photographer is no different either, as demonstrated by the brother pulling out a camera and getting some shots.

"OK, Kalan, your turn!" the other girl, Kelsey, giggles.

"Nuh-uh, no way!" Kalan suddenly blushes and waves in protest.

"Oh c'mon, it's not gonna kill you." Mackenzie plucks the camera from her brother and nudges him towards Kaleb, who can't help chuckling inwardly at this spectacle. He goes with casually leaning an elbow on the young man's shoulders, as non-threatening a gesture as possible for Kalan, whose taken a deer-in-the-headlights look.

"Hey, relax, bro," he says as the shutter goes off.

But when Kalan turns for some reason to face him directly, eyes locking with the sudden impact of a collision, he's the one who freezes. Total clarity.

_He's something different,_ Kaleb thinks for every reason and no reason at all.


End file.
